


The Boy in Question

by tessykins



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-17
Updated: 2006-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessykins/pseuds/tessykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew takes the stage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy in Question

Andrew had always been a geek. He knew that, had always known that. So had the rest of the world. Just about everyone had ignored him; geeky, awkward, loser Andrew. Andrew had been isolated all of his life-even in kindergarten he had been the favorite target of bullies. It got worse once he got into middle school. Since he was skinny and unpopular, most kids assumed he was gay. He got used to being called "fag" long before he discovered that he was actually gay. Andrew had kinda always wondered about that. Had they known before he did? Or was it just a coinkydink?

Anyways, then he'd met Jonathon and he didn't feel so alone anymore. They'd actually met through a chatroom for gay sci-fi fans. When they'd both admitted to being from Sunnydale, they had decided to get together. Of course, both of them had meant on a date. But once they actually met, there had been a huge lack of romantic sparkage, so they decided to just become friends. That had been a great time for Andrew; he'd had an awesome best friend and he wasn't the only gay geek in Sunnyhell.

Then there had been Warren. Andrew had been more than a little bit in love with Warren. He'd believed every word Warren had said, even turned on Jonathon to please Warren (and that was just when Warren was alive) and Warren had betrayed him in the end. It made him feel like such a fool. He vowed never to fall in love or listen to another jerk like that again. Instead, he would listen to his smart and non-killery best friend. That promise had lasted for all of about a month and a half. Till Warren had shown up again. Well, everyone knew what happened after Warren came back.

Whenever he thought about Warren, Andrew felt like one of those stupid abused wives who did anything, anything, their husbands asked them to do, no matter how much they hurt them. Andrew had killed his best friends jut because Warren had told him to. Andrew automatically pulled away from that thought. He couldn't think about Jonathon's murder without needing a few days to lock himself away and cry like a baby. Then he needed a few more days to eating nothing more than Ben & Jerry's to feel remotely human again. But sometimes on the subject of Warren, Andrew idly wondered if, since there was Battered Wives Syndrome, was there a Battered Friend with Unrequited Homosexual Crush Syndrome. He supposed not. That would be too easy. Just something else to blame his stupid, stupid decisions on. Buffy had already given him a lesson in the futility of that...Oooh, futility. Big word. Muti-sybbalic. Multi-symblic. Multi...it was a long word.

Andrew had like being a part of the big machine that had been the Slayer Army (he'd given it capital letters in his head). He wasn't that important, like the not-so-plucky comic relief or the official brownie-maker. He was sort of like Merry or Pippin in the Fellowship; they weren't that important but they were cute, and small. He was small, and well, his mom thought he was cute. But he didn't have big hairy hobbit feet like Merry or Pippin. That was good. He didn't much like feet: they gave him the heebie-jeebies. Besides, Merry and Pippin were so gettin' it on in the last movie. Tolkien was so repressed. Andrew thought the whole series was the most in-denial movie he'd seen since _Troy_.

Then again, most of the world today was in such denial. That was why _Queer As Folk_ was only on HBO. God, Andrew loved that show. Oddly enough, he'd started watching it while he was studying with Giles and crashing at his place. They'd been watching it one night and getting absolutely smashed when Giles had starting bawling and spilled all the sordid details about his relationship and bad, really bad break-up with some guy named Ethan. Apparently, Giles was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Andrew had just thought he was British.

Andrew thought it was a little weird that half of the original Scooby Gang (Giles and Willow) had turned out to be gay while Buffy and Xander had turned out straight. What were the odds of such a even spilt? Andrew tried for a moment to figure out the probabilities and quickly gave up. Thinking about Xander made it really hard to do math. He really wished Xander had turned out to be the gay one, not Giles. God, he'd had such a crush on Xander while he was the Slayer Army's guestage. He'd even loved Xander, sorta. He'd almost thought that Xander was the love of his life. He had never met anyone like him, not even Warren. Xander liked comics, but was still cool. He was the heart of the Slayer machine. Definite plus points for him.

But Xander was all hung up on Anya and that angst. Even if Xander had considered fooling around with another guy, he wouldn't have chosen to fool around with Andrew. But Andrew was kinda okay with that. Neither of them had really needed any more emotional crap hanging over their heads at the time. Andrew had barely made it through the fight as it was. Anya’s death had shaken him up good and he knew he could never have dealt with the guilt of fooling around with Xander, Anya’s ex, when Anya had been wiling to die to save him. Just thinking about it made Andrew want to cry. This was supposed to be a fun night—he was going out with his friends. He really needed something to take his mind off this. And like an answered prayer, the doorbell rang.

Andrew answered the door and was greeted with very unexpected guests. He gasped and clutched his hand to his heart. “Spike! _O mio dio_!” He grinned and jumped forward to hug Spike tightly. “ _E come un sogno incantevole_ [*].” He released Spike and stepped back. “What are you doing here?”

Angel favored him with a suspicious glance. Andrew suddenly remembered that Angel found him kinda obnoxious. “About to ask you the same question, Andrew.”

Andrew shrugged. “Buffy and Dawn are letting me crash. My casa was incinerated when that thing happened.”

Spike looked intrigued. “What thing?”

Andrew looked away. “Cultural misunderstanding.” He chuckled nervously. The whole episode was kinda embarrassing. “Let us speak of more pleasant times.” He stepped back to let the two vampires in. “ _Entrate pure_. I part my threshold.” Angel and Spike just stared at him. “I mean my apartment. Obviously.” Duh. Angel and Spike tried to enter the apartment at the same time, but got stuck in the door. Angel shoved through and entered first. Spike scowled at the back of his head and followed him in. Andrew bit back a laugh. It was so Three Stooges. “So, um, I had plans later this evening, but I can change them if you guys wanna hang.” It was Spike, after all. Andrew would do just about anything for Spike. Andrew tried to straighten up the apartment a bit, shoving comic books under the couch and tidying the coffee table. “Uh, I could show you Rome at night, a city of contrasts. Anywhere you want to go, anything you want to see.”

“Buffy,” they said simultaneously. Right. Andrew knew that. They weren’t here for sightseeing, or for hanging out with a geeky Watcher wannabe. They were here to see the woman they both loved. He flinched when their faces fell when he told them she was out. And of course Angel demanded to know where she’d gone.

“To meet The Immortal,” Andrew replied. Hey, it was kinda common knowledge by now. They were probably looking for her to convince her to get back with one or the other of them.

Spike was aghast. “By herself?”

Andrew shrugged and pouted a little. “I told you I had plans.” Besides, he always felt a little weird around Buffy and The Immortal. They were so intensely into each other. Even when Dawn was with them, Andrew always felt so unimportant. He already felt like that a lot of the time; he didn’t really go out of his way to feel that way. Not that Andrew had anything against The Immortal—he seemed to be a pretty cool guy.

Angel looked a little panicked. “When did she leave?”

“Just missed her.”

Spike sighed in relief. Andrew was kinda relieved. At least it looked like Spike wasn’t spoiling for a fight. “Then we’re not too late.” Never mind.

Angel nodded. “Of course, it could be worse.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re telling me.” He plopped down on to the couch. “Most nights they never leave the house, just curl up on the couch and snuggle.” It made him really uncomfortable. Besides their totally intense vibes. Just, eww. Breeders.

Angel frowned, looking angry and worried. “There’s snuggling?”

“For starters.” He sat up, a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Wait. Uh, you didn’t know they were…together?” Oh, crap. Buffy was going to rip out his ribcage and wear it as a hat. She was gonna go all Slayer-y on him and they’d never find his body…

Spike turned to Angel. “It’s worse.”

The two vampires shared a surprised, horrified glance that quickly turned to determination. They were going to find Buffy and there was nothing Andrew could do to stop them. Not that Andrew would try. After all, they were two really strong champion vampires, and he...well, he was good with a pair of oven mitts. The two vampires straightened their shoulders and took up their mission like some kinda Grail quest. Andrew was hardpressed to keep from laughing. Sometimes heroes could be so ridiculous. He shooed them out of the appartment, then indulged in a gigglefit. Andrew had barely finished laughing when the phone rang. He checked the caller ID and squealed fangirlishly when he recognized Marco's number.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and picked up the phone. “ _Ciao,_ ” he said, trying to sound suave.

Marco laughed and Andrew nearly swooned. “ _Ciao a voi, Andrew. Alambicco stiamo andando all'esposizione stasera?_ [*]”

“ _Sì. Ho denominato Isabella e Caprice. Stanno andando venire al mio appartamento in primo luogo. Allora li verremo a contatto al teatro._ [*].”

“ _Buon._ Good.” The sound of Marco’s voice in his ear was making Andrew melt. He was so fucking lucky to have snagged Marco. Best boyfriend ever. “ _Siete eccitati?_ [*]”

“ _Sì!_ ” Andrew practically yelped. He and Marco had been on plenty of dates, but this was their first _formal_ one. They were wearing tuxes and going to an opera. That made it super special. Even the fact that it was a double date with their best lesbian friends couldn’t make it any less special. It was some sort of milestone for them, even if Andrew didn’t really know what it was a milestone of. “ _Non ho visto mai prima_ La Bohème. _Inoltre, sarò con voi. E quello è sempre emozionante._ [*]”

Marco had just started to answer when someone knocked on the door. Andrew groaned and reluctantly said goodbye. He had a feeling he knew who was on the doorstep.

He was right. Spike and Angel were back, looking to see if Buffy was back. Of course she wasn’t, it was only 8:30. Did they think she was a hundred years old like them? Andrew sent them on their way, back on their quest for the Holy Buffy. Andrew grinned; he was helping them out on their Grail quest. Some called him…Andrew. It just didn’t have the same ring as Tim, though. Replaying his favorite Monty Python scenes in his head, he headed into the bathroom. He hoped the boys took a little while before they showed up again. He had places to go, people to see; he needed to take a shower! Andrew sighed. He probably shouldn’t be thinking of Spike at that moment; there were some things he felt were really inappropriate to do in a friend’s shower.

Spike was the bad boy; the type of man mothers warned their daughters (or sons) about. Andrew was never really sure whether he wanted to be Spike, or be with Spike. Of course, his body knew how to answer that question: Andrew had never wanted another person more in his life. When the Trio had caught the footage of Spike and Anya having sex in the Magic Box, Andrew had wanted nothing more than to be the one spread across that table, Spike thrusting into his body.

Come to think of it, Anya had gotten to be with all the men Andrew had wanted. Andrew felt he should hate her more, instead he just missed her. But Anya's death wasn't something he wanted to think about right now. Not when he had a date, and when both Spike and Angel kept coming over to see him. Never mind that they were here to find Buffy, he’d had two beautiful men in and out of his apartment all night.

Andrew sighed and dropped his bathrobe and clothes on the bathroom floor. It'd be nice if two gorgeous guys would come halfway around the world to find him. That, of course, would never happen. He was just Andrew and not the Slayer. That was okay, he didn't really want to spend all of his nights hunting scary, often scaly things.

Andrew laughed a little as he turned on the shower; if he'd been a Slayer, and not part of the whole Watcher-in-training-thingy, he never would have gotten to meet Marco. Marco had been recruited to join the Watcher thingy and he and Andrew had been working together for the last couple of months. They'd started dating less than a week after they met and started sleeping together not long after that. Andrew stepped under the shower's hot spy with a dreamy sigh and a hearty blush. Marco was everything Andrew had always wanted and never thought he'd have in a lover. Marco was suave, and gorgeous, and intelligent, and funny, a social butterfly, and he loved X-Men comics. Not to mention the fact that he was an incredible lover. Andrew blushed harder and tried to control the persistent erection he seemed to get whenever he so much as thought about Marco. Andrew had tried to figure out who Marco was most like and decided that he was the illegitimate lovechild of James Bond (Sean Connery, of course) and Antonio Banderas. Andrew considered himself as lucky as hell to be with a guy like Marco, and inwardly did a Snoopy dance every time Marco smiled at him.

Andrew shook himself out of his steamy, dreamy haze. He needed to get moving, he always took at least a half-an-hour to get ready. Andrew snorted; he was such a fairy. He stepped out of the shower, nearly tripping over the edge of the tub and threw on his bathrobe. Andrew’s dorky smile stayed on his face even when he heard the knock on the door. He figured it was Angel and Spike again, trying to find Buffy. He sighed; dealing with those two was beginning to be like dealing with two idiot teenagers. Even the pleasure of ogling Spike wasn’t quite worth the hassle of the two vampires.

Andrew answered the knock at the door and was unsurprised to see Spike and Angel there. Again.

Angel was obviously getting a little flustered. “Is Buffy back yet?” he demanded.

“Sorry,” Andrew apologized. “Not yet. You guys can hang if you want. I’m just heading out.” Well, Buffy would already be pissed at him for telling her exes about The Immortal, he couldn’t piss her off much more by letting her find said exes waiting on her couch. Angel and Spike walked into the apartment and Andrew turned to Angel to admire his new motorcycle jacket. He’d managed to change his look in record time. Not even two hours later, and he had gone from dark avenger CEO to super-hip, cool guy. “Oh. Hey. Nice jacket.”

Angel closed the door the behind him. “It’s the latest style.” Andrew thought idly that he should be worried. He’d just invited in two vampires while he was all alone. One of them had just closed the door; no one would hear him scream. Andrew laughed mentally. In Italy, no one can hear you scream. Then again, this was Angel and Spike, champions extraordinaire, that he was talking about. They were cool, and definitely not all homicidal. Usually.

Spike wasted no time on pleasantries. He was all business. “Andrew. Has Buffy been acting off? Like the Immortal’s got her under a spell of sorts?”

“Excellent question.” Andrew cocked his head to the side and thought for a moment. “No.” Andrew slung his towel over and walked into the bathroom. Andrew rolled his eyes; those two were so stupid. They thought they could just come back into Buffy’s life, when she’s moved on and have her just swoon into their arms. They were probably even arguing about who got to keep Buffy. Idiots. Buffy had moved on and they needed to, too.

However...Andrew smirked a little. Their constant bickering reminded him of Isabella and Caprice, his best gal-friends. Except that Angel and Spike weren't women, or lesbians, or Italian...Anyway, Andrew wondered if Angel and Spike might be moving on with each other. They'd make such a cute coupe. Not to mention a hot one. What Andrew wouldn't give to be the meat in that sandwich...Andrew quickly yanked his mind out of the gutter. An erection would not look good under this tuxedo. And no matter how open Italians were about that sort of thing, Andrew didn't really feel quite comfortable with it. Like the first time he and Marco made out in public...Bad thoughts! Bad thoughts! Have to deal with jealous vampires in living room, Andrew reminded himself, not think about gorgeous boyfriend and steamy makeout sessions.

“Could it be mind control?” Angel yelled from the living room.

“Or a love potion? Did she drink a love potion?” Spike added.

“Dude, seriously, I thought of all those things, but turns out Buffy fell for The Immortal on her own, and—and now she’s happy. That’s it.”

From the living room, Andrew heard the faint sounds of Angel talking to himself. He was yammering on about…cookie dough? Andrew had absolutely no idea what Angel was talking about. He heard a loud sigh. “Uh, Spike,” he called out, “is Angel crying?” ‘Cause that would be very disturbing. Angel was all billowy-coat, defender of the helpless, creature of the night, hero guy. If he started blubbering like a little girl, it would tear a hole in the fabric of the space-time continuum.

Spike yelled back, defensively, “No!” There was a pause. “Not yet.”

Andrew called back, “May want to hold the waterworks, big guy. The Immortal’s cool and all, but he ain’t all that. He’s got his flaws.”

“Really?” There was sudden hope in Angel’s voice.

Spike also seemed more hopeful. “Wh-what are they?”

Andrew sighed, exasperated. “The point is she’s moving on. You guys do the same, and you might catch her one day. One of you, anyway. But you keep running in place, you’re gonna find she’s long gone.” Andrew heard Spike mutter something to Angel. It sounded like at least Spike was starting to understand what Andrew was trying to say. “Buffy loves both of you, but she’s gotta live her life. People change.” Andrew walked out of the bathroom in his tuxedo. Angel and Spike’s jaws dropped. “You guys should try it sometime.”

There was another knock at the door—it couldn’t be anyone but his ‘dates’ for the night. Andrew grinned as he opened the door for Isabella and Caprice. " _Ah, Caprice, se bella come la notte._ [*]” He smiles as he kissed her on both cheeks. He turned to Caprice’s brunette girlfriend with a wide smile. “ _E tu, Isabella... superi perfino le stelle._ [*]” He kissed Isabella on both cheeks. With any of his straight friends, Andrew would've kissed them on the mouth, but Isabella was a little bit insanely possessive. Never mind that he was gay and didn't have any romantic interest in Caprice, unless of course she'd magically grown a dick and was interested in men. But there was no telling that to Bella, no...

Andrew glanced over his shoulder at Spike and Angel. They were both gawking at him and the girls and Andrew suddenly realized how this must look to them. Him wearing a tuxedo and seemingly sporting not one, but two, lovely ladies on his arm. Arms. Whatever. Oh well. It would've looked better if Marco had come to pick him up. They sure could've given Spike and Angel a show. But still, if he was going to leave the two vampires with one last image of him, he could do a lot worse than looking like James Bond (a much skinnier, dorkier James Bond). “ _Ciao,_ ” he said.

Andrew had a funny feeling that he wouldn't see either of them ever again.

Andrew shook his head and put that gloomy-doomy thought from his mind. Offering an arm to both ladies, Andrew set off with his two favorite lesbians (except for Willow and Kennedy) and set out to meet his boyfriend for a night on the town. The night was young and so was he.

  


  
Translations [or so Babelfish tells me]  
[*] Oh my god! ... And like a handsome dream.  
[*] Are we still going to the show tonight?  
[*] Yes, I called Isabella and Caprice. They’re going to come to my apartment first. Then we’ll meet you at the theater.  
[*] Are you excited?  
[*] I’ve never seen _La Bohème_ before. Besides, I’ll be with you. That’s always exciting.  
[*] As beautiful as the night.  
[*] You surpass even the stars.


End file.
